


Bucky Barnes's Seven Days in Brooklyn

by rc1788



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rc1788/pseuds/rc1788
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the events of Captain America: Civil War, Bucky Barnes is woken up from his sleep by T'challa and Steve Rogers. Steve has some news for Bucky, and he wants to spend a week in Brooklyn with him for some much-needed R&R.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday

James Buchanan Barnes--Bucky-- dropped his bag the moment they stepped into the apartment. His list of possessions shrank every day. A hat, a jacket, a journal. A few euros. Bucky flexed and unflexed his left hand and watched as Steve moved around him and into the apartment. The curtains were drawn shut. He opened them to reveal their second sunrise.

“How’s the arm?” Steve asked right before he yawned.

“It’s good.” Bucky nudged his bag with his foot and moved into the apartment. Hardwood floors, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the street and the adjacent apartment building. Thinking about all those windows facing in made the back of his neck itch. The whole ride from Wakanda in a private jet from King T’challa’s fleet had him on edge. Maybe he preferred being asleep so he wouldn’t have to feel this way again.

Bucky edged away from the living space and into the kitchen where he found the refrigerator and opened it. There was a can of coffee and an open bottle of juice. His nose scrunched.

“Is somebody living here?”

“Yeah. Me.” Steve stood on the other side of the breakfast bar and leaned on his elbows.

Bucky motioned to the state of the fridge with a look of betrayal. The former captain reached over to a coffee machine on the countertop and pushed the on button.

“You just leave that ready to go.” The coffee machine gurgled as the first drops of coffee hit the bottom of the pot.

“You know me, always prepared.”

Bucky shut the fridge. “Yeah, but not for guests.” Bucky blinked and an easy smile slid across his face. Steve matched his smile and chuckled.

“‘Living here’ is a bit of an exaggeration. Tony, he--”

Bucky’s shoulders tightened. Steve’s words stopped short and he nodded, looking down. Bucky moved on to the next room. An office with a computer and an empty bookcase. Next door was a bathroom. Bucky pulled back the shower curtain and looked inside. Just a frosted window beyond the tub, a shower head that was chrome and attached to the ceiling. He’d never seen that before. Idly, he reached out and turned it on.

“It’s called a rainfall shower. I don’t really get it. At least it’s above my head.”

“Yeah.” Bucky switched off the water. “Never had that problem.”

“I didn’t used to.”

Bucky snorted. Steve was leaning in the doorframe, taking up the whole space. “I’m not really good at sharing.”

“I’ll make sure you have your own toothbrush.”

Bucky laughed. The feeling in his chest was unfamiliar and jarring, the way his jaw tightened from the laugh that escaped felt wrong, so he stopped.

The only bedroom was covered with a blue cover and was made without a wrinkle. Another tall window made Bucky scowl, but there were blackout curtains covering it.

“Remember the whole ‘I don’t share’ thing?” Bucky asked.

“You won’t have to. I have to get going soon.”

Bucky turned to Steve slowly, his mouth a thin line. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” And he was, because he was Steve. Even if he did something that was unexpected, Bucky eased back into the implicit trust that had always been there. “Nat has something she needs to talk to me about. Sounded urgent.”

“Oh.”

“If you want someone to stay with you, I could have Sam--”

“No.” Bucky nodded. “I’m fine.”

Steve beckoned him back into the kitchen and poured each of them a mug of coffee. They sat in the living room on the couch and drank in silence. Steve watched the mug in his hands like it was going to jump at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky asked.

His friend smiled. It was the same smile Bucky had known for years. A lift of his brow, and eyes that didn’t meet right away. The smile he used when he was pleasantly caught off-guard.  “You. Me. Brooklyn.”

Bucky took a long sip of coffee, still watching Steve. “It’s kinda nice.”

“Like old times, but with more cell phones.”


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes out to get some necessities and has a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want Bucky to do Normal Stuff! That was the goal with this chapter.

His body woke him up just after 0400. A stabbing pain down his left arm. Throwing off the sheets, he sat up and gripped his hand into a fist. Not the first time this had happened. A bit of sensory overload, maybe he was tensing up in his sleep. Couldn’t remember if he dreamed.

On the kitchen counter was a note from Steve and a roll of twenty dollar bills.  _ For pizza, or whatever. Get yourself something nice. See you soon. _

The apartment was dark, unfamiliar shadows all around him. Bucky flicked on the lights in the living space, then the bathroom, bedroom, and office. He paused in the office, watching the computer screen. He walked up to it, knelt down, and yanked the power cord from the wall.

This was Tony’s apartment for Steve, and he trusted nothing. Especially not the empty bookshelf. Bucky pulled it from the wall and inspected the wood. The surface was smooth except for a cobweb.

Bucky flipped all the couch cushions, pulled wicker storage baskets from under the coffee table, lifted and overturned the coffee table. Then he opened every kitchen cabinet and paused, staring at the destruction, realizing that finding a hidden camera or bug would take a more methodical approach. So he started at the front door and moved back through the rooms until he was wedged under the king-size bed on his back staring at the bottom of the mattress.

_ All clear _ .

\---

Around 0800, Bucky took a shower. He let the water get almost scalding, stood for a long time, never letting his thoughts stray from the hot water on his skin or the white tile that surrounded him. He inhaled, and he exhaled, and told himself to repeat as necessary. He remembered dreaming about the chair--

Bucky clenched his fists, dug his nails into his palm. Then he switched off the water and got out.

Caught a look of himself in the mirror. Wet hair almost touching his shoulders.  _ Dad would’ve killed me _ . At first, the thought amused him, but his smile faded. He ran his fingers through his hair and left to get dressed.

Steve’s room didn’t have much to pick from. Mostly t-shirts and a couple of sweaters. Bucky put on one of the sweaters, noticing how long it was on him. He craned his neck and peeled back the shirt to check the size. XL. “Who’d’ve thought,” he murmured with a smirk.

With a rubber band from the office, Bucky tied back his hair, grabbed the cash and a key, and left the apartment.  _ Clean up later _ , he told himself. The apartment was on the seventh floor, and he took the stairs down, preferring to get a rise out of his heart rate and avoid being in the elevator.

Outside, the sun was bright and the air was cold as a breeze caught him. The buildings were tall and gray, the city was noisy, and the buses were huge. He felt uneasy, at first, but he knew where he was. This was home. Not like Bucharest. This was his real home.

Another cold breeze, this time more like  _ wind _ , and Bucky shivered. He’d forgotten a coat. Some things never changed.

He started walking, thinking once again about having  _ free time _ . He preferred keeping himself occupied rather than lapsing into thoughts that reminded him of everything going on. He wished Steve didn’t have to leave, but he had to let his friend do his job.

Bucky had gone under for six months before T’challa got his hands on the red book and woke him up. Said there was no need to worry, that the book had been destroyed, and if Bucky was okay with it, Steve could come and pick him up.

The Wakandans fixed him with a new arm and Steve caught up with him after his surgery. Steve was almost giddy when he said they’d be going to Brooklyn together for some R&R.

Bucky recalled all those nights back in the day when he and Steve walked home from the boxing gym, shooting the shit, or saying nothing at all. He thought about ice cream and the first time Steve mentioned a girl he liked. He clung to the memory--the chocolate ice cream, and Steve’s vanilla ice cream cone that he ended up dropping so they took turns eating Bucky’s. For most of the walk he didn’t think for a second about Siberia or Tony or Hydra.

Bucky wondered if that old boxing gym was even still there. That shouldn’t matter anymore. Most everything was gone. Except him, and Steve.

There was a convenience store a few blocks ahead that Bucky entered to get some supplies. His own toothbrush, for one, and then he paused. His stomach growled. He grabbed a handful of Snickers bars, a bag of beef jerky, and something called “pretzel chips.” Two magazines, a Coke, and a tall can of what he thought was soda that said ENERGY on it. The last impulse buy was a Juicy Fruit, and Bucky was back on his way to the apartment.

Bucky took a different route back to the apartment. Now clouds were rolling in, and the wind picked up. With his convenience store treasures in hand, Bucky sank into the couch and opened the TIME magazine. He’d chosen it because Stark was on the cover. While he ate the first Snickers, he turned to Stark’s article and stared at the man’s printed photo. It was a candid of him exiting his gaudy orange sports car, thick-framed glasses nested on his face. Bucky flipped to a random page and read about the ongoing water crisis in Michigan.

The door opened just before noon. Bucky dove off the couch and pressed himself to the floor. It was just Steve with armfuls of groceries. “Hey, Buck. It’s me.”

A sheepish smile. “Yeah. Hey.” Bucky pushed himself to his feet.

“What’d you do?” Steve indicated the disarray of the kitchen and living room, as Bucky had neglected to return everything to its proper place.

“Got a little paranoid about this being Stark’s place.” Bucky managed a smile as he reached out and took some of the groceries. “Hey, it’s clean, did you know that?”

“Of  _ course _ I knew that. Thanks.” Steve started taking the groceries out of the bags. “Wouldn’t have brought you somewhere that wasn’t safe.”

“I know, but.”

Steve nodded to the candy wrappers and magazines in the other room. “Don’t tell me you’re bored.”

“I’m settling in.”

“Oh, I almost forgot--Sam--”

The door opened and Bucky’s arm shot out in front of Steve, his other hand grabbing a knife from the countertop. The action was pure reflex, and Bucky only noticed he was about to throw the knife when it registered the man standing in the door was an annoyed-looking Sam Wilson.

“Man, I should’ve knocked.”

Steve patted Bucky on the arm and he relaxed, replacing the knife back with its set. Sam had two armfuls of groceries and was trying to pretend he wasn’t out of breath. “That’s the last time we race each other up the stairs, Rogers.”

“Why’s he here?” Bucky asked.

“Good to see you too, Elsa.” Sam forced the groceries into Bucky’s arms and nodded to Steve. “You think Tony cares that you’re still using this apartment?”

“He knows I’m here. Hasn’t called or anything.”

“Does he know I’m here?” Bucky took an apple and bit into it.

Steve clenched his jaw so that the sides of his temples hardened, and he looked at Bucky. “I let him put a camera outside the door. So, yeah.”

“As long as he doesn’t charge me for rent.” Bucky ignored the tightness starting up in his chest, the spike in his heart rate, and the urge to go cut down the camera.  _ Trust _ , Steve had said.  _ We need to trust again _ .

Sam glanced back at the apartment door, then looked back at the two of him. “Don’t see any red and gold flying death machines here for you.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Steve seemed particularly interested in unloading the groceries, except that he put the milk in a cabinet.

“Steve.” Bucky took the milk and put it in the fridge. “You met with Romanov, didn’t you? What’s going on?”

Steve spared Bucky a knowing glance with Sam before speaking. His bright eyes focused on him, that concerned furrow in his brow spiking anger in Bucky. He checked himself.

“T’challa didn’t destroy the book.”

The bottom of his gut dropped out of him, his head spun like he’d been hit. “No--”

“It’s okay. I have it, Bucky.”

Bucky sprang at the taller man, grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Give it to me.”

“Buck!” Steve’s face was all concern and a hint of disappointment. No, not disappointment-- _ guilt _ . Bucky grit his teeth.

“Steve, you know I wouldn’t have come here if I thought I’d be a risk. I would have gone back under. I don’t want to be here if that book is still out there. I don’t care who has it.”

“Barnes.” Sam was behind him, and he spun around and brought his new fist out, hovering it in front of his face. Sam didn’t even blink. “Stop.”

Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s back with gentle pressure. “T’challa thinks there’s something in the book that can help you.”

His heart pounded up into his throat. He concentrated on breathing, on Steve’s hand at his back. He looked between the two of them and let both of his arms drop at his sides. He threw back his head. “God damn it.”

Sam finished putting away the groceries while Steve took Bucky into the office and pulled out a drawer. Just looking at the cover made Bucky wince.

“I’m going to pull out the pages,” said Steve. “And I want you to watch me destroy them.”

Bucky nodded. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the book, and he didn’t trust T’challa to know what was best for him. He knew the King would keep him safe, and he even helped fix his arm, but he’d never be able to get inside his head.

“I’d rather destroy the whole thing,” Bucky murmured.

“What about Natasha? She may be able to help.”

“No.” Bucky stared at the book. “Let me--let me look at it first.”

Steve held the book out to him. He had the pages in his other hand, and he got a lighter out from a drawer.  “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. But if there’s nothing in it, I’m going to burn it.”


	3. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's restless; Steve has to go; Bucky has a visitor again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I feel like I'm writing Netflix episode summaries sometimes, lol!)
> 
> re: Steve's phone. I gave him a flip phone in this. He lost the smart phone he had in Civil War. Just let him have his simple tech!

Bucky slept on the couch, or tried to. Sleep eluded him for over an hour. That red book cover was emblazoned in his memory, like it was burned into his retinas. He pulled a pillow over his head and eventually drifted off into a light sleep. Steve rustled and got up around 0400.

Bucky sat up and watched Steve walk into the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, and stare inside. “Can’t sleep either, Buck?”

“I always wake up at this time.”

Steve got out the milk and poured himself a glass. Bucky dragged himself to the breakfast bar and slid onto one of the stools.

“I looked over the book.”

“What did you find?”

Bucky shook his head. “I couldn’t really understand it. My Russian is not so good when I’m not the Soldier. But there was something…” Eyes lifted to his friend. “I don’t trust Romanov.”

“Then let’s not use the book. We’ll find another way.”

\---

That afternoon, Steve’s flip phone rang. He took the call on the balcony. Bucky watched him with intent, eyes scanning the building across the street. Steve paced the balcony and hung up. He looked at Bucky with an apologetic frown.

“You gotta go,” said Bucky. “That’s okay. I’ll be here.”

“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. It’s about Wanda. I’ll be back tonight.”

Steve went to the door and took his jacket from the hook. As he put it on, Bucky walked right up to him with his fists at his sides. “Steve?”

He’d just opened the door, stopped, and closed it. He turned to face his friend fully. “Yes?”

“Be careful.”

\---

Around 1700, there was a knock on the door. “Barnes? It’s Wilson.”

Bucky contemplated not getting up to answer. But then Sam would call Steve and there would be a mess. So he shuffled to the door and opened it. “What?”

“Nice, man. Okay, I get it, we’re not friends. But thinking about you sitting here by yourself all day was really messing with me. So if you want, I brought something for you.” Sam held up a six pack of beer. “And some movies. You like movies?”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He stepped aside to allow Sam to enter. As he shut the door, he said, “What kind of movies?”

“All kinds. Action, horror, comedy. Probably got a couple of cartoons in here too.” Sam set the duffle bag on the ground and started rustling through it. “Ever seen _Predator_?”

There was a heavy silence. Bucky shook his head. “The last movie I saw was _Mission in Moscow_.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It came out in 1943.”

“Oh. Right. You’re old, how could I forget?” Sam chuckled at himself in a way that wasn’t at all malicious. Bucky had to figure the bird guy was the closest friend Steve had, and maybe he should be given credit for helping.

Bucky brought himself to sit on the couch beside Wilson, and he took one of the bottles of beer. Sam produced a bottle opener from his pocket, but Bucky had already twisted off the cap and tossed it onto the table. After a beat, he picked up a second bottle, opened it, and handed it to Sam. Silently, they raised their glasses and took a drink.

“Augh.” Bucky’s whole face scrunched and he shook is head. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s an IPA.”

“A what?”

“An India Pale Ale. It’s craft beer.”

“It tastes like soap. If this is what beer tastes like in 2016, I want to go back to sleep.”

“Don’t worry. I brought different kinds. Here, try mine.”

Suspicious eyes watched as Wilson offered up his bottle. Bucky took it and sipped. “This is fine.” He looked at the label. “Doesn’t taste like Budweiser, but I guess after half a century, the taste can change.”

“They say your taste buds start to die off when you get old.”

“Just put in a movie.”

\---

Bucky voted for the next movie to be _Casablanca_ because he saw the scene with the piano at a bar in Bucharest. Through most of Sam’s pick, _Air Force One_ , Bucky had pointed out the logical flaws and poor stunt work to the point that Sam just turned it off and made him pick. The beers were long gone and Bucky found himself getting bored with his movie choice.

“How’d you meet Steve?” he asked.

“In DC, not too long before you showed up. We ran the same route near the Capitol Building.”

“Together?”

“If by ‘together’ you mean Steve running thirteen miles in thirty minutes while I barely get in three, sure.”

The thought of Steve kicking Sam’s ass that hard and doing it with so much grace that they became friends was too much. Bucky doubled over laughing.

“I can’t tell if you’re laughing at me, or with me.”

“Both,” Bucky sputtered.

“How’d you two meet?”

“Imagine Steve acting the exact way he does now, but at less than half his size. Ruffled a few feathers. I got sick of him taking a beating for speaking up when I was too afraid to stand up to anybody.”

Sam nodded and a smile hinted at his lips. Like everything that had happened in the past two years had a new clarity.

“I’m the one that told him not to join the army. Look where that would’ve gotten me.” Bucky grinned because he knew the answer--had always known the answer, somewhere deep down. “Dead, probably, and well before all of this.”

\---

Just before midnight, Steve returned. He had a way of entering the apartment with a soft turn of the door handle, and he kept his keys gripped in his hands to keep them from rattling. Bucky was reading on the couch and he sat up expectantly as the blond man entered and shut the door behind him.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Steve said. When he smiled, he winced.

Bucky quirked a brow. In the dim light, he could barely make out a welt on the side of Steve’s face. “What happened to you?”

“Bad guys do not care that I’m on vacation.” Steve moved over to the couch and Bucky made room for him to drop onto the cushions. He looked at the empty beer bottles on the coffee table and his brow crinkled. “Sam?”

“Yeah, Wilson stopped by.”

“‘Stopped by’? There’s six bottles here.”

“He stayed for five hours. That guy is talkative. And he made me watch movies.” Getting a closer look at Steve, he was also working on a nice welt on the back of his head too, and he had a scratch on his nose. With a sigh, Bucky got up and went to the kitchen. There was no ice in the freezer, but there was a bag of frozen peas, so he brought it back to Steve and held it out to him. “You gotta tell them ‘not the face’. It’s your best feature.”

The frozen bag was accepted with a nod, and Steve rested it on the side of his face. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah." Bucky perched on the armrest of the couch next to Steve and looked down at him with a smirk. "You've got nothing else going on. Just a pretty face with a shield."

Steve crashed back into the couch and seemed to melt right into the pillows. He shut his eyes. “Love you too, Buck.”

“ _Somebody_ has to.”


	4. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has another visitor, drinks too much coffee, then pays Sam a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know parts of this are bordering on crack, but I was having too much fun. c: Sorry not sorry!

 

Steve slept in, for once, and Bucky poked his head into the bedroom to check on him. Steve slept on his stomach, completely tangled in sheets. And he was snoring a little. Bucky stood for a minute watching.  _ He’s not a newborn, Bucky, leave him be _ .

The kitchen had been put back into proper order, but some of the extra decorations and things in the living room were still thrown about. Bucky repositioned the wall art with a distasteful scowl. Why did Tony Stark have to be so  _ extra _ ? Bucky thought the apartment was too big, the windows were too revealing, and there was too much furniture. The only thing he liked was the TV.

Bucky opened the coffee maker and noticed Steve had already got it ready to brew, so he pushed the  _ on _ button and waited. Then there was a knock on the door.

He froze in place, calculated the distance between him, the door, and the hallway leading to Steve.

“It’s Natasha,” said a voice outside.

Cautiously, he approached the door as if he was walking on thin ice. He peered through the peephole. Red hair.

“Natasha who?” Bucky asked.

“Romanov, Black Widow. You’ve tried to kill me on several occasions.”

Bucky pulled open the door. Seeing her made his blood boil, but that was a reflex. He let her inside and shut the door.

“Where’s Steve?” she asked.

“Asleep.”

“What? It’s 8 in the morning. He’s usually run a marathon by now.” Natasha’s face was entirely serious, and Bucky knew that was no exaggeration. “Did you party hard last night?”

“It was a raging party. The police came. Sam’s in jail right now.”

Her lips pressed together to hide a smile. “Steve won’t stop talking about you, you know. I was trying to tell him about how Stark wants to have a meeting and he just kept going on about how you’re back and how glad he is.”

“I have that effect on people, only--they’re usually pissed that I’m back.”

“I’m somewhere in between.” Natasha still had that hint of a smile on her face. She was distressingly charming. Even though she tried to blow him up and also hit him in the head more times than he could count, he thought he liked her better than Sam.

Bucky watched Natasha sit at the breakfast bar and turn on her seat toward him. “Steve mentioned something about you needing to talk to me, but he wasn’t specific, and he told me just to ask. So I’m asking. And I won’t press the issue.”

“Are you close with Steve?"

“Is… that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No. I’m just trying to figure you out. And Sam. And Stark.”

Natasha shrugged one of her shoulders. “I’m closer with him than I have been with anyone in a long time, but I’m not a good gauge for friendship. If you want to know if we trust each other, then, yes. I trust him.”

“Does he trust you?”

Her head tilted to one side in consideration. “That depends. I might have lost his trust by signing the Accords. You would have to ask him.”

“No. You ask him.” Bucky walked right up to her and stood over her, unblinking. “I have the book Hydra used to brainwash me, and Steve thinks there may be something in it that could help me.”

“Shit, Barnes.”

“It’s in Russian and I can’t read all of it. Steve already destroyed the pages with the code words, so… I wondered if you would look at it.”

“I never would have expected…” Natasha looked away, her brow knitting. “Of course I’ll help. We can look at it together, whenever you want.”

Bucky slid onto the seat beside her and stared down at the countertop. The granite stone was taupe with specks of brown, black, and gold. He traced his left index finger over a vein.

“I’ll say this now, and you don’t have to ever take me up on it. But if there are any… things… you want to talk about, things you aren’t proud of, I’ll lend an ear.”

His mouth felt dry suddenly and he nodded. Natasha, too, had done things she wasn’t proud of.

Natasha pushed herself up from her seat. “Tell Steve I said hi and that he needs to check his damn phone. We’ve been texting and calling him for the past day.”

“I turned it off.” Steve yawned, standing still in the hallway leading from the bedrooms. His hair was askew, and one of his sweatpant legs was caught at the knee. “You keep calling me in for stuff. I’m on vacation.”

“There’s no vacation for an Avenger, Rogers.” Natasha got up and looked between the two men. “It looks like you’ve been having all sorts of fun. You guys ate a whole 7-Eleven over there.” She nodded toward the wrappers and empty bottles on the coffee table.

“Sam left that mess.” Bucky folded his arms.

“Only half the mess. The rest was you, Buck.”

Natasha chuckled. “Okay, well, I’m going to leave you two to it. You’re very married right now.”

“We  _ are not _ !” Steve said almost too loudly.

“We’re a little married,” Bucky mumbled.

\---

Once the coffee was ready, they sat beside each other on the couch. Steve picked up the small cell phone and looked at it with a frown.

Bucky’s hand shot out and grabbed the phone.

“Hey!”

“I’ll check your messages for you, Steve.” Bucky turned the phone over in his hands until he found the power button. The phone buzzed as it powered on. WELCOME BACK, STEVE scrolled text on the screen. “Three missed calls and twenty-two text messages. Natasha called you, Sam called, you… Tony called you.”

Steve had sat back on the couch so his head was nestled in the cushions. “Did they leave a voicemail?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do the messages say?”

“I don’t know.”

Steve turned his head toward his friend. “Why not?”

“There’s this game called Snake… oh, shit, I just ate myself.”

“ _ Give it _ .”

“No!” Bucky got up and jumped over the coffee table before Steve could snatch it from his hands. “Okay, okay. I’m reading. Sam says ‘Hey, Cap, what’s up? Hung out with Bucky last night and he’s…’” Bucky’s nose scrunched. “‘Actually pretty cool…’” He looked up at Steve suspiciously. “Is this fake?”

“Fake?”

“‘But you already knew that, he’s your friend. I won’t bother you too much while you’re on vacation.’” Bucky went back to the other messages. “This is Natasha. ‘Steve, I’m stopping by to talk to Bucky Wednesday morning. Let him know for me.’”

“Oops.”

“The rest are from Tony.”

“Tony? Really?”

“‘Rogers, I’m ready to talk to you. I tried calling and I waited an appropriate amount of time before texting you.’ Then five minutes later: ‘your phone must be off, so I’ll just say it here.’ Ugh.” Bucky rolled his eyes and tossed the phone at Steve, hitting him in the chest. “It’s a bunch of sap. I’m going back to bed.”

“Bucky…”

“What?”

“Tony wants to talk to you, too.”

Bucky was already halfway down the hallway when he stopped. “Ah. Shit.”

\---

_ Let’s get out of here _ .

Steve took him to a coffee shop that was swarming with people ordering what, to Bucky, sounded like detailed laundry lists of flavors and options that should never be available to any sane person. Bucky didn’t like standing in the line, and he edged a little closer to Steve.

“What is this place?” Bucky whispered.

“Starbucks. There’s practically one on every corner. Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“I hate that phrase.”

“I know you do.”

“What do you get here?” Bucky asked Steve as the line moved up.

“Coffee with room for cream.”

Bucky  _ sighed _ . “We had coffee at home. So you’re not getting a…” He squinted up at the menu. “Strawberries and  _ creme _ .”

Steve nudged Bucky with his elbow. “Nope.”

When it was their turn to order, Steve went first and got a “venti” coffee, then he stepped aside to let Bucky order.

“I want a large butterscotch toffee caramel mocha frappucino with two shots of espresso.” The clerk diligently wrote the order on a cup and looked up.

“Do you want whip?”

Bucky almost started laughing. “What?”

“Whipped cream, Buck.”

“Oh.” He snorted. “Yeah.”

Bucky gleefully watched as Steve’s order went from three dollars to twelve dollars.

When their drinks were ready, Steve led them to a table outside and slammed his cup down. “Bucky!” His eyes got a little dark and his voice deepened. “‘Do you want whip’?”

“Yeah, Steve. I want it.  _ Bad _ .” Bucky plopped down in one of the chairs and inspected the clear plastic cup. His drink was gold and tan with tendrils of whipped cream and chocolate syrup throughout. He tentatively put the straw at his lips and sipped. “My God. This tastes like a frozen cupcake. It’s disgusting.” His brow crinkled as he took another sip. “I can’t stop drinking it.”

“We better find some activities for this afternoon. Do you know how much caffeine is in that?”

“No. Why?”

\---

Twenty minutes later, Bucky finished the drink with only minor brain freeze, and he had moved into the chair next to Steve.

“I don’t really see why Tony wants to talk to me. Unless it’s to apologize for trying to kill me. And you, in the process.” Bucky shifted and crossed and re-crossed his legs. Then he stood up and walked around to the other side of the table. “It can’t be good for him to talk to me.”

Steve leaned his head in his hand and watched Bucky with a distance in his eyes. “Tony is trying to reconcile his past. It’s not easy.”

“Tell me about it.” Bucky propped one of his feet up on a chair and started a bouncing stretch. “What if it’s an elaborate plot to trap and kill me?”

His friend didn’t even honor the question with a response. He just tilted his head forward and stared at Bucky until he came to his own conclusion.

“Can I bring him a fruit basket and a sympathy card? ‘Sorry I killed your parents’?”

“ _ Bucky _ .”

Bucky swallowed the discomfort in his stomach. He was feeling nauseous. He looked away from Steve and watched the traffic for a few seconds. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“What about Friday night?” Steve asked, taking out his phone.

“Okay.” Bucky shifted again and went back over to where Steve was sitting to watch him type up the text. “Sign it ‘love, steve.’”

“No.” Steve sent the text and looked up at Bucky. His face was still serious. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The sunny morning had turned into a sunny afternoon, and it was almost too warm for jackets, but Bucky wouldn’t risk removing the long sleeves and reveal his metal arm. Idly, he wondered if he could ever be seen in public with it. That bothered him for a moment--the arm that Hydra gave him, the arm that made him the Winter Soldier, but it was still  _ his _ arm.

“Sam and Natasha are staying in the city too?” Bucky asked, kicking at a twig on the sidewalk.

“Yeah. Sam’s in Brooklyn.”

“Because of me?”

Steve stared down at Bucky, then he kept his gaze straight ahead. “No. Because of me.”

“I wanna go to Sam’s.”

\---

_ What’s the number? _

Bucky raced up the stairs as soon as Steve told him. They were both fast, but Bucky had had a double shot frappucino, and surprise on his side. He beat Steve by a few seconds to Sam’s apartment door and started pounding on the door.

“It’s the police!” Bucky shouted.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted from down the hallway.

Sam opened the door without hesitation and leveled a glare at the long-haired nuisance standing there waving hello at him.

“You put a dent in my door, Barnes.”

Bucky strolled into Sam’s apartment and looked around. His place was clean and orderly and smelled faintly of cologne. There was a neatly folded throw draped over the couch,  _ coasters _ on the coffee table, which sat on either side of a green candle. “Bachelor pad,” Bucky mumbled as he went into the kitchen.

“I took Bucky for coffee, and now he’s…” Steve motioned to the kitchen, where Bucky was looking in every cabinet and commenting on how Sam had more plates than they did.

“Stark likes you more,” Bucky complained, then he went down the hallway.

“Don’t touch my stuff, Starbucky.”

“I’m gonna touch  _ everything _ !” Bucky shouted.

Sam exchanged a look with Steve that wasn’t entirely annoyance. “You two settling in?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we are.”

Sam nodded toward the hallway where Bucky disappeared, grinning at Steve. “First time I ever seen the guy smile like that.”

The sound of a record player needle went  _ thud _ and suddenly Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” started playing from another room.

They found Bucky staring at the record spinning with his hands on his hips in appraisal. “Why do you have all this stuff here? I thought you lived in DC.”

“Not anymore.” Sam turned the volume dial down a bit. “Had to get out of there.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, his blue eyes reverent as he watched the record spin. Without looking up, he murmured, “That’s a nice record player.”


	5. Thursday, AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky uses the Internet, complains about breakfast, and rides a motorcycle without a helmet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it finally happened. I wrote too much and had to post Thursday in two parts.
> 
> disclaimer: I do not condone riding a motorcycle without a helmet!
> 
> disclaimer 2: I make fun of fangirls knowing full well I am a fangirl. wink wonk

Around 0300, Bucky woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.  _ Bad dream _ . He wandered the apartment for a few minutes before stepping out onto the small fire escape. The city was still alive. Distant voices and sirens. It was cold. He leaned on the railing and looked down, noticing the distance to the street below.

Bucky held his head in his hands and drew a ragged breath. The dream he had didn’t matter to him, just that it had been something  _ he _ did. A year ago, standing on a balcony like this would have been different. Now he was too exhausted to even cry.

Just after his mother’s funeral, Steve once confided in him that he was overwhelmed, stressed out, and grieving. That his dead end job was only sustaining him enough to survive.  _ I don’t want to survive, Bucky. I want to _ live.

And that had bothered him. Not because Bucky always wondered just where Steve’s optimism ended.

For a while after pulling Steve out of the river two years ago, he had to convince himself that his thoughts were his own. Even the bad ones. The memories started to resurface and he started to actually miss the chair. For a solid day he thought about returning to Hydra so they could put him to sleep. He would do anything to forget--

Then he’d think about Steve taking his punches, trying to talk to him, and doing more for him than anyone ever had.  _ Believe _ .

“Bucky?” Steve was standing behind him, a hand poised on the sliding glass door.

“Hey, Steve. I was just…”

Steve bumped Bucky on the shoulder, a blanket in his hand. “Freezing to death?”

“Trying to.” He took the blanket from Steve and scoffed.

“It gets better.” Steve lifted his gaze to the sky, dark clouds purple against the lights of the city. “Part of it is making new memories.”

Bucky tugged the blanket around him. “Guess so. Except it seems like every person I know, besides you, I hurt or otherwise ruined their life.”

“Sam and Natasha know that wasn’t the real you.”

“Still seems like I need to apologize. I can’t erase the fact that it was me, even if Hydra was pulling the strings.”

“Okay.” Steve mirrored Bucky’s pose, leaning on the railing. He looked over at Bucky and nodded. “Do what feels right.”

“I can’t take back what I did… and I can’t ignore it, either. That’s part of why I went to sleep. Not just to protect everyone else. But to protect myself from facing what I did.” Bucky stood up and folded his arms. Being open like this was difficult for him, and it always had been. Steve’s devoted attention didn’t help. “You know,” he said, a smile playing at his lips, “I got some old memories that are okay, too. Like the time we ditched that dance because the band sucked, and Hannah went home because she had cramps or something.”

“I ditched because I don’t know how to dance.”

“Whatever. Then we shut down that diner and you had about four strawberry milkshakes.”

“And I threw up on the sidewalk, I know.”

Bucky snorted, which turned into a full-on laugh. “It was  _ pink _ .”

The laugh that came out of Steve was loud, and he controlled himself to a stifled snicker that made the corners of his eyes water. He held his sides and sneaked a quick breath. “Oh, that was--so awful--”

“You wouldn’t eat strawberry anything for months.”

His laughter died down, and Steve reached over and laid a heavy hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I missed you.”

“If there was anybody I’d want to spend my golden years with, it’s you, Steve.”

“And I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Bucky looked up at his friend, and Steve looked back at him with that even and steady gaze. Blue eyes he could get lost in. Taller than he was used to, but Steve wasn’t the only one that changed.

“For losing you in the first place.”

\---

Bucky didn’t like sleeping in the bed, he decided, and not just because Steve slept in it and didn’t put it back together the day before. The sheets seemed to strangle him, and the pillows were too soft, and there was an awful lot of room just for him. Not wanting to wake Steve, he crept into the office and plugged in the computer.

Sam or Steve or somebody had mentioned the “Internet.” Bucky knew he had used it before, but he didn’t care to remember for what. Since being out, he preferred doing his own research, keeping his thoughts in a journal and not stored in some ethereal “cyberspace” where it could be found by anyone. At least he knew where his journal was at all times.

WELCOME, STEVE, scrolled the computer screen. Bucky scrunched up his nose. All of these electronic things knew Steve’s name, and that was weird.

Lips pursed together in thought, Bucky sat with the computer’s search engine screen up for several seconds before deciding what to search.

THE WINTER SOLDIER.

He shut his eyes and let the computer screen load for a second, then he looked up.

WINTER SOLDIER SUSPECTED IN MULTIPLE HIGH PROFILE ASSASSINATIONS…

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, WINTER SOLDIER, FRAMED FOR U.N. BOMBINGS…

CAPTAIN AMERICA PROTECTING THE WINTER SOLDIER FROM THE LAW? …

THE WINTER SOLDIER: HOT OR SMOKIN HOT???

Bucky clicked on the last website.

_ Hi I’m Sara! Here is every pic I can find of The Winter Soldier!!! _

_ haha these are great! _

_ he killed people… u shouldnt be into that… _

_ BUT HE WAS BRAINWASHED _

_ Hehehe that arm tho _

Bucky groaned and held his face in his hands. Was this a nightmare or were teenagers gawking at him from their computer screens around the world?

“I forgot to tell you not to Google yourself,” Steve said with a yawn.

Bucky turned in the seat to face Steve while he pointed at the screen accusingly. “These aren’t even good pictures of me. This one’s blurry.”

“It’s a nice action shot.” Steve stood beside Bucky and leaned over the computer, enlarging the photo so that Bucky’s strained face took up the whole screen. “Oh, he’s sooo hot,” he said in a high-pitched voice.

“Okay--you know what--” Bucky shouldered Steve out of the way and searched STEVE ROGERS. “Maya from California is going to marry you. Apparently.”

“What? What is this?”

“‘Maya and Steve Rogers’ Wedding Page.’ Aww, it looks beautiful, Steve.”

“How did she get a picture of me in a tux?”

“It looks like she cut out your head and put it on another guy’s body.”

Steve snorted and took over the computer again. STEVE ROGERS AND BUCKY BARNES.

Bucky’s entire face turned into a wrinkle. “Is that--”

“Drawings of us kissing? Yes.”

“Why--who would--I can’t even--”

“I like this one, personally.” Steve pointed to the one where they were trying to kiss each other through the glass of Bucky’s cryo pod.

“All right. I’m done. That’s enough Internet for me. Forever.”

\---

“Did you know,” Bucky said as he put together a sandwich of sliced ham and cheese, “neither you or Sam bought a single breakfast item at the store?”

“There’s eggs, and fruit.  _ You _ go shopping next time if it’s so important.”

“Most important meal of the day.” Bucky devoured the sandwich. His appetite had been lacking overall since coming out of cryo, but it seemed to be returning.

“What do you want to do today? We can do anything. Go anywhere. Well, within reason.”

“I want to visit Natasha.”

“Okay.” Steve’s entire countenance stiffened and he got that look on his face like he was about to give a public speech. “You…”

“I’m gonna bring the book and we’re gonna look at it. Today’s Thursday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That only leaves me three days to figure out this stuff.” Bucky tapped the side of his head with this metal finger.

“Why only three days? What’s going to happen on Sunday?”

“You said we’d get seven days of R&R. As far as I’m concerned, I’m going back to sleep after this.”

“Bucky--”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the headlines. I’m an international criminal. Captain America can’t be seen with an assassin. It’s either sleep, or prison--forever.”

“I’ve broken some laws and sanctions, too, Buck. You’re not in this alone.”

Bucky shrugged and turned back to the refrigerator. He took out the tall can of ENERGY soda and cracked it open. “We could be imprisoned together, forever.”

“The girls from the Internet would be all over that.”

Bucky allowed himself a chuckle, even though the threat of both of those things happening were very real and very undesirable. “At least the girls are still into us, even though we’re old farts.”

“To 2016.” Steve raised his coffee mug.

“And girls.” Bucky lifted his energy drink and took a sip. He nearly spat it out. “Shit, that’s worse than the toffee mocha crap.”

\---

Bucky convinced Steve to let him take his bike over to Nat’s. Bucky straddled the seat and lowered himself down, leaning forward to reach the handles. The Harley purred when he switched on the engine.

“I need to get me one of these,” Bucky sighed contentedly as he pulled the motorcycle out into traffic. Steve showed him how to use the navigation computer that Stark installed, and he keyed in Nat’s location. Maybe technology wasn’t so bad.

He took it easy and enjoyed the drive, as it was another warm and sunny day. Steve told him to wear a helmet, but he didn’t, and he was glad for the breeze on his face. When he arrived at the apartment building, he parked the bike and went up to the door. He buzzed apartment 18A and entered.

The stairs actually took the breath out of him, as she was on the eighteenth floor, but he made it in less than five minutes and was rather proud of himself. He went up to her door and knocked.

“Barnes.” Natasha said as she let him in.

“Romanov.”

Natasha’s apartment was neat and orderly like a laboratory, but it felt comfortable, with placid neutral colors and a furry-looking carpet. Natasha motioned for him to sit at her tall kitchen table.

“Coffee?” she asked.

Bucky poked the pendant light that hung over the table. It was one of those exposed “vintage” bulbs. “Yeah. Thanks.”

On the windowsill were four plants soaking in the morning sun. Bucky looked from the breakfast nook to the kitchen, where Natasha was pouring coffee out of a glass coffee press. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“A while.”

Bucky leaned forward on the table as she set down the coffee mugs and took a seat across from him. “You have a nice apartment.”

“See what a little tidying up can do? I prefer my living space to not look like a frat house.”

Bucky smiled because neither of them had been to a frat house, but it wasn’t far from the truth. “And you have a cat.”

Natasha shook her head. “I do not.”

Bucky pointed under the table at a small foam ball with feathers poking out of it. “Do you just play with that on your own?”

“I don’t actually  _ own _ a cat. I just feed one that shows up on the balcony. And I let it in sometimes.”

“So you own a cat. Got it.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and took a long drink of coffee. “All right. You said you wanted to look over the book.”

“Right.” Bucky unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it for the red-covered book. He held it in his hands and stared at the star on the cover before sliding it over to Natasha.

Her fingers closed around the book’s spine and she ran her hand over the cover. She inhaled and opened it.

“Steve took out the pages with the words. We burned them. But there was some stuff on the other sides of the pages we destroyed that might have had something we needed.”

“You did the right thing.” A small wrinkle appeared just above her nose as she read, concentrating. Bucky shifted. He felt like she was reading something personal of his, like a diary, but he hadn’t written any of it. He just knew that there were things in that book that made him tick, and he didn’t know exactly what they were, but he was sharing them with Natasha anyway.

“The chair,” she said under her breath. Then she flipped the book around and showed him schematics of the chair’s guts--the head piece in particular. “This information may be what we need to get started.”

“You mean I need to get my brain scrambled again to fix it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t want to hurt you.” She looked down at the pages again, pensive as she placed a finger to her lips. “You know who needs to see this.”

“Bruce… Banner…”

“If we could find him. But you know who else.”

Bucky slid out of his chair and walked over to the window. He reached out to one of the plants and pinched one of the leaves. It was a succulent and the leaf was squishy. So he squished it. “I can’t go to him.”

Natasha was quiet. He looked back at her with a frown. He hadn’t felt like crying in a long time, but he was getting that tightness in his throat, and words became impossible. Of course the only person in the whole world that could help him was Tony Stark. The shred of hope he had been clinging to in that godforsaken book slipped right through his fingers. Shutting his eyes, Bucky let his head drop.

“We’ll get someone to help you.”

Bucky inhaled sharply and exhaled. In and out, slower. Then he opened his eyes. The sun was bright and he almost didn’t see the face of a gray tabby cat seated just outside the window.

“Your cat’s here.”

\---

With the book safely back in his backpack, Bucky sat down again while Natasha opened the window and let in the cat. She gave it a scratch behind the ear and went into the kitchen, returning with an open can of tuna.

The cat ate happily beside the kitchen table. Bucky watched it chomp away on the tuna and looked back at Natasha. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her body froze in place and she leveled her gaze at him. He fidgeted, folded his arms up against his stomach, and stared back at her.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I scared you.”

Natasha’s mouth dropped open, she caught herself and looked away, down at her cat.

“And I almost killed you. So, I’m sorry.”

“Barnes. You don’t have to apologize for that. It was Hydra, not you.”

“But it  _ was _ me.” Bucky grabbed the edge of the table and leaned forward. “And I just--wanted you to know I was sorry.”

“This is a first. No one’s ever apologized for that before.” Her small smile was holding back something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She slid her hand across the table and patted the top of his hand. “Apology accepted, Barnes.”

“You can call me Bucky, if you want.”

“That’s Steve’s thing. How about James?”

“Literally no one calls me James.”

“Okay, then, Barnes it is.”


	6. Thursday, PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha does not throw a party, Bucky and Sam still aren't friends, and there is more motorcycle riding without a helmet.

 

Steve arrived at Natasha's apartment after a while. Natasha showed them how to order food for delivery from her phone, and fifty dollars later, they shared a late lunch. 

“Barnes,” Natasha was looking down at one of the containers. “Did you order ten pickles?”

“Huh?” Bucky looked too. Then he snickered. “I thought I was ordering five pickles.”

“Five? You wanted  _ five pickles _ .”

“I was gonna share.”

“Oh, Nat,” Steve was saying as he disassembled a sandwich. Bucky figured Steve could eat an actual ton of food now that he was  _ bigger _ , but he still played with his food before eating it, like he always did. “I told Sam he could come over.”

Natasha made a loud scraping noise with her straw as she pulled it in and out of the plastic lid. “Is nothing sacred anymore, Steve? I was very clear about this being  _ my apartment _ . If you want your boys’ club meetings here, you’re going to have to pitch in for rent or something.”

Bucky took a piece of turkey off of Steve’s sandwich and held it under the table for the tabby cat. Natasha was such a liar, the cat had a collar and everything, but she kept referring to the cat as “it” like some monster. Natasha watched him feed the cat and could have killed him just with her gaze, if she wanted to.

Then there was a knock on the door. Steve jumped up and answered it. Sam strutted in with a large bag on his shoulder that Bucky eyed curiously. Steve clapped Sam on the back. “Hey, man.”

“Hey! I heard there was a party at Nat’s house!”

“ _ No _ .” Natasha made no move to get up from the couch, but she glared at Sam. “There is no party at my house.”

Sam ignored Natasha as he started unloading things from his bag. “Here. Barnes. Steve told me you were more of a bourbon guy.”

Bucky let the cat hop down on the floor and rushed over to Sam, eyeing the tall bottle of amber. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Let me…” He took the bottle of Four Roses and gazed at it, then he looked at Steve. “I like him. Can we keep him?”

\---

“I shit you not,” Sam was saying, pointing a finger at Bucky. “That’s what happened.”

Bucky shook his head. Between them sat the bottle of bourbon, and he reached out to refresh both of their glasses. “No way. You’re full of it.”

Natasha filled a goblet-sized wine glass with a 2013 cabernet sauvignon. She brought the glass to her lips and checked her phone. “Wanda is headed back here.” Natasha glared at her phone screen. “Says she’s bringing over some friends.”

“Did she send a smiley face?” Sam asked. “If she sent a smiley face then it’s not code for something.”

“She sent the tongue-sticking-out face.”

“Yeah, we’re good, then.”

Bucky turned his head toward Steve and caught his eye, lifting one of his hands as if to ask “what the hell?” Steve mouthed  _ I don’t know _ and Bucky let it go as a tech thing he didn’t need to understand.

After a few minutes, Wanda knocked on the door and entered. She had a bag of groceries in one hand and a big smile on her face. “Nat! Look who I found!”

Clint Barton came in with a vegetable tray in hand. “Hey. Heard there was a party.”

“Ohhhh, no. No, no. This,” Natasha pointed at the gathering in her living room and spun her finger around. “Is not a party.”

“It’s a get-together,” Steve added, trying to be helpful.

“A gathering,” Bucky said.

“Uh-uh. It’s a party.” Sam got up and went to help Wanda with the groceries, but she just grinned at him and floated the bag into the kitchen. So he took the tray from Clint and spun it around to show Natasha. “See? We got fancy dips and shit. It’s a party.”

Bucky noticed another presence in the doorway, a tall man wearing a black dress coat. “T’challa?”

“Hello.” T’challa bowed his head respectfully to Natasha. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Romanov. Thank you for having me.”

Natasha gave a thumbs up to the new guests while taking a gulp of wine.

\---

Wanda swapped subway ride stories with Clint and Sam until the two men started exchanging mission stories, which quickly turned into a start-to-finish epic novel about Clint and Natasha’s first mission together.

Bucky noticed Steve jump and take his phone out of his pocket. He frowned and got up to move to another room. He tried to catch his friend’s eye to see who was calling, but Steve had already disappeared down the hallway.

“Sharon’s coming over,” Natasha announced, pumping one of her firsts into the air.

“Sharon…?” Bucky asked.

“Carter. The former SHIELD agent that you can thank for saving your sorry butt twice.” Nat’s thumbs danced over the screen of her phone as she shot a text back to Sharon.

“Steve kissed her,” Sam chimed in when Bucky’s face didn’t change with recognition.

“Oh, that one.” Steve still hadn’t come back from the phone call and Bucky got up. He noticed T’challa was watching him, seated with a straight back at the edge of his chair as if it were a throne. He looked at the King with a tired sigh.

Sam refilled Bucky’s glass with more bourbon, picked it up, and nudged him until he took it. “Don’t tell me Sharon and Steve was  _ your _ doing, Nat.”

“As much as I’d like to take credit…” Her head tilted. “It was Fury. But I helped.”

“Wasn’t Carter there to watch out for Steve?” Bucky threw back a little too much bourbon, winced, and let it burn all the way down. “Y’know, if the microwave stumped him or he tripped over an Internet modem?”

“Or you shoot Nick Fury from a block away,” Natasha added with an innocent smile like she just picked a flower.

“Yeah,” Sam said. He watched Bucky to see if he’d react to Natasha’s comment, especially because he was already standing up, but Bucky remained still with his glass of bourbon. “That’s like trying to set up a guy with the babysitter.”

“Maybe that’s Steve’s type. He does have a type, right?” The way Natasha smiled again, Bucky knew she was jabbing at the open nerve. Both him and Sam were playing right into her game. When she looked at Bucky, her smile dissipated and she shrugged. “Not that it’s any of our business.”

Steve returned from the hallway and everyone stopped talking and looked at him. He smirked. “All right. What were you saying about me?”

“You’ve got the hots for babysitters.” Then Bucky grinned.

\---

Sharon Carter had a poise about her, a sort of calm and easy grace that actually reminded Bucky a bit of Steve. He watched as she laughed, bending forward and touching Steve on the arm because he said something innocuous that ended up being funny. With a smirk, Bucky slipped away from the living room and found the bathroom.

When he was finished, he nearly barreled into T’challa coming back down the hallway. “Mr. Barnes,” T’challa said, his hands steadying Bucky’s shoulders.

He was taller than Steve and Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look up at him. “What’re you doing here? Did Steve tell you to come pick me up?”

“I come to New York City once, maybe twice a month. You and I just happened to be here at the same time. Miss Romanov owes me a favor, so I came over to help drink all of her wine.”

“Right.” Maybe Bucky owed Natasha, for betraying the King of Wakanda to let him and Steve go. Bucky was certainly racking up a lot of debt in a short amount of time. Most he could never repay.

“It must feel surreal, being back in the city like this. How are you doing? Is your arm all right?”

“It’s good. Really good, actually. Thank you.” Bucky lifted his left hand and turned it over. Steve never had to ask how he was doing, he realized, so it was a question he hadn’t considered, and didn’t currently have an answer to. Brooklyn hadn’t been his home in a long time, and if returning was supposed to fill the parts of him that were hollow, it wasn’t working. He’d always been impatient, and perhaps his expectations for some “R&R” in Brooklyn had been too high. He wanted to feel better, and sometimes he did, but at other times, it seemed like the darkness was closing in on him.

Bucky was learning how to be patient with himself, but he came back to the city to heal, and it seemed like every waking moment he was pissing someone off or asking for help. He hated relying on others. He liked relying on himself, and for others to rely on  _ him _ .

Now he was a broken record, losing sleep over memories that haunted him. At least in Bucharest, he could withdraw and get lost in his head without sharing his pain with anybody else. Still, it got lonely in the depths of his mind with the thoughts that were hard to take.

The weight of the King’s hands on Bucky’s shoulders might as well have sank him into the floor. Bucky lifted his head. “I might be going back to Wakanda with you.”

“I see. That is all right with me. Have you talked to Mr. Rogers?”

“Sort of. It’s just…” Bucky pressed his lips together and couldn’t form the right words. Guilt felt like a cold wet rag in his mouth, but he wasn’t feeling guilty right now. This was an insidious claw creeping up the back of his neck. He feared more sleepless nights and what would happen if the wrong people found him.

“You are afraid.” T’challa’s eyes were full of concern. Dark pools deep enough to get lost in. Bucky’s mouth dropped open. No, he wouldn’t admit it, still.

“I don’t want to be used again. And Hydra is still out there.”

“You have powerful allies, Mr. Barnes. There is much to be said for that.”

Bucky shrugged out of T’challa’s grip, couldn’t get past him to go back to the living room and ignore the hard conversation he was having. “You don’t have to help me, you know. You’ve done enough. My arm, finding the book…”

“Because of my actions, you were almost imprisoned, or worse. You may not be an entirely innocent man, but you have taught me a valuable lesson.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“How to forgive.”

\---

Bucky rode on the back of Steve’s motorcycle home. Natasha made everyone get out at just before midnight because she was “tired” and “sick of everyone.” Bucky was feeling the same way.

“You wanna ride for a bit?” Steve asked when they stopped at an intersection.

Bucky felt a little silly holding on to Steve. It used to be the other way around when they used to double up on Bucky’s old bike, only Steve rode on the handlebars. Since they weren’t in motion, Bucky reached up and patted Steve on the chest with both hands. “Sure,  _ big guy _ .”

Steve didn’t even flinch, he just craned his neck to look back at Bucky. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“I was wondering…” Bucky poked Steve in the side and he jumped. “Yup. Still ticklish.”

“Buck! I will turn this thing around!”

“I won’t tell anybody.” Steve started up again and Bucky pressed himself into Steve’s back as he swung into a right turn. “Knowledge that Captain America can be incapacitated by a few well-placed pokes is a matter of national security.”

“Shut up.” After a few minutes, they made another stop and Steve really turned around. “How long were you wondering?”

“Just now.” Bucky flashed his teeth at Steve in lieu of a grin. “Who called you before? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Tony.”

“Ah.”

“Just getting a few last details for tomorrow. He wants to meet us at a Starbucks a few blocks from Stark Tower.”

Bucky groaned dramatically. He lifted his gaze up to the dark sky. A clear night, warmer than the last, and he drew in a long breath. “Fine.”

“You talked to T’challa?”

“A bit. The guy is still kind of a mystery to me.”

“Better to have him with you than against you.”

“You can say that again.”

Steve waited a beat. “Better to have--”

“ _ Steven _ .” Bucky smashed his face into Steve’s back. “Just drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set out to do Sharon Carter right, but I think I failed miserably. [two thumbs up]
> 
> I also had this idea in my head that this chapter was going to be FUN and ADORABLE and I also think that didn't happen. Sigh.


	7. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve meet with the man, the myth, the legend: Tony Stark.

“Bucky, wake up.”

“Nuhhhh.” Bucky pulled a pillow over his head.

“Buck, c’mon. It’s almost noon.”

“I’m not asleep,” Bucky said into the pillow.

Steve yanked the covers back and batted away Bucky’s pillow. Then he folded his arms. “You’ve been asleep for almost nine hours.”

A sunbeam from a crack in the curtains hit Bucky right in the face. That couldn’t be right. It had to still be the middle of the night. But it wasn’t. “Oh.” He rested a hand on his forehead and squinted up at Steve. “I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“We were sitting here talking, then you just laid down and trailed off in the middle of a sentence. When’s the last time you fell asleep like that?”

“Wakanda, probably.” Bucky pushed himself up onto his elbows. Steve was already dressed and had his hair pushed up and over to the left. He’d been up for hours. Looking to his left, he realized the pillow beside him was crumpled like it had also been used. “Steve?”

“What is it?”

“I think I’m hungover.”

\---

Eventually, Bucky got up and ready to go. He put on his baseball cap and one of Steve’s long-sleeved t-shirts. Outside, it was overcast but warm and humid, and they decided to walk and take the train into Manhattan.

Times Square was a bustling mess with bright advertisements and throngs of people crowding the sidewalks. Bucky let Steve lead the way to his lunchtime request: _pizza_.

They sat on the steps and ate in silence. Stark Tower loomed in the distance.

“This pizza is amazing,” Bucky heard himself say with his mouth full. “Did they always make it like this?”

“I don’t think they had it back then.” Steve looked at him with a curious grin.

“Right. No, I must have had it… another time.”

Nodding, Steve reached over and rested his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a little push.

\---

The Starbucks was a few minutes’ walk from Times Square. Bucky was silent for most of the journey, keeping his hands in his pockets and trying to stay focused on what was to come. His last memory of Tony Stark was not a pleasant one.

Bucky saw Tony the minute they approached, seated alone at one of the tables outside. Tony was relaxed back into his chair with one leg crossed over the other. He had his arm rested on the table with his phone in his hand, looking like he could control the world with the touch of a button. Steve kept on walking at the same strong pace, and Bucky kept up by his side.

“Steve.” Tony looked up and got to his feet, a hand outstretched.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice was cold, and he shook Tony’s hand with a firm grip.

“Barnes.”

Bucky took Tony’s hand too, not as firm, and without a smile. “Hey.” A lot of what happened in Siberia was a blur that he didn’t care to recall. But he remembered the choke hold Iron Man had him in, and the roughness in Tony’s voice when he asked _do you remember them_? Bucky swallowed hard and let go of Tony’s hand.

“You two want anything?” Tony asked. No one had sat down yet.

Steve put his hands on his hips and looked around. “No thanks, Tony.”

Bucky pulled out one of the chairs, metal scraping on concrete, and sat down. The noise and movement actually made Tony jump.

“You sure?” Tony asked, his eyes looking between them. “Because I want something. It’s that time in the afternoon where I start to drag. Certainly, men of your age can relate.” Tony’s innocuous smile should have made Bucky angry, but he was completely disarmed by it, and found himself smirking.

“We’ll try not to fall asleep,” said Bucky.

Tony sat back down, and Steve took a seat next to Bucky. “Here,” said Tony. “I need to show you something.” Tony motioned for Steve to look at a napkin on the table, and he started writing T-O-N-Y S-T-A, then he paused, and made sure Steve was looking, as he made a very clear capital R, then K.

“This is how civilized people write their R’s, so they don’t look like N’s.”

It took Steve a moment to process, then his stern face melted into a smile. “Tony Stank.”

“The package still made it. They did teach you penmanship in the Middle Ages, right?”

“Tony Stank,” Bucky repeated, and covered the lower half of his face with his hands. He wasn’t going to laugh.

“Next time I’ll send you an email, Tony.”

\---

Steve and Tony shot the breeze for a few minutes while Bucky studied the surface of the table. Tony asked how Wanda was doing, Steve thanked Tony for the apartment they were staying in, then they each got excited about how impressed they both were by T’challa’s vibranium suit. Bucky supposed a civil conversation was important, but he was anxious to get on with it. Because there was always something.

“You’re a man of few words, Barnes,” Tony said.

Bucky shifted from his slouched position in his seat, sitting up and leaning forward so his hands were on the table. “Is there something you want me to say?”

“Buck,” Steve said under his breath.

“No, no. Just making an observation.” Tony put a hand on the phone sitting by him on the table and slid it over to Bucky. “That’s for you.”

Bucky looked at it, then back at Tony.

“Usually people say ‘wow, Tony, a custom-made smartphone that’s virtually indestructible, this would be so perfect for my prosthetic arm that can punch through concrete.’”

“Is this so you can keep an eye on me?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.” Tony’s voice was matter-of-fact, his face unreadable. “I like to keep track of the folks on my team.”

His heart skipped a beat and he was feeling even more sick than when he first laid eyes on Tony. He nodded once and picked up the phone, studying it before lifting his eyes back to Tony. “Thank you.”

“I’m ready to move on.” Tony swallowed and folded his arms over his stomach.

Bucky looked at Steve, who looked back at him with a clenched jaw. Maybe they were all square. Tony tried to kill Bucky, Bucky tried to kill Tony back, Tony then tried to kill Steve, who damn near killed him right back. And in December of 1991, Bucky did something unthinkable to Tony’s family, yet here they all were.

“Me too,” said Bucky. He was an expert at leaving words unsaid, but this time he couldn’t. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Tony raised a hand to stop him. “I said I’m ready to move on. But I can’t forgive you. So don’t.”

Looking down, he swallowed back the nausea and told himself _let it go_. Bucky had known that would be the way it was. What he did was unforgivable. Even if it was Hydra, the blood was on Bucky’s hands. And the Starks had been a mission that stuck with him. His method had been brutal. Biting down on his lip, Bucky felt his hand go numb because he remembered what it felt like.

“It’s okay,” Steve murmured.

Tony spread his hands. “I actually didn’t bring you here to send you on a guilt trip. I come bearing more gifts. Steve, I believe this is yours.” He reached around to a large thin box that had been leaning against his chair and slid it over to Steve.

“Tony…” Steve already knew what it was. He pulled the box over and opened the top. “Thank you.”

“I even cleaned it. Tried to buff out those claw marks from T’challa. By the way, do you _ever_ wipe it clean? Looked like it’d been to hell and back.”

\---

Tony convinced them to get something from Starbucks, and Bucky let Tony order for him. Tony brought him a tall pink drink that seemed to have more whipped cream than anything.

“Very pretty. Thanks.” Bucky took it and inspected it before drinking. It tasted like cotton candy that had been mixed with cake frosting and frozen.

“The other reason I brought you here was to talk about where we go next. We being… The Avengers.”

“Still calling us that, even after the bad press?” Steve asked. He seemed almost hesitant to use the word ‘us,’ but it came out anyway.

“I’m working on that. And the U.N. stuff. Or, rather, Nat is working on it and I have been doing other things. Anyway, if we come across anything that looks remotely like Hydra, I wanted you two to be the first to know.”

Bucky stopped mid-sip, the straw between his teeth. “What?”

“In case you were interested. If not, I could table it and let them keep…” He waved ambiguously. “Hydra-ing.”

“We’ll take it.” Steve had gone rigid in his seat, his words quick. “Whatever you got. Right, Bucky?”

Bucky noisily made another sip of his drink and gave Steve a sidelong glance. The truth was, he was tired. Tired of having to meet all of Steve’s friends, tired of worrying about Steve, tired of facing his past, and tired of fighting. There was still the matter of the red book and the potential for the Winter Soldier to do more unthinkable and unforgivable things. The longer his silence, he noticed Steve’s face change from precocious optimism to surprise and then guilt. It made Bucky angry to make Steve feel that way.

There was no redemption for him, he knew. But there was another word. _Atonement_.

“I’m in,” Bucky said finally. “I’ve just got… some things… to take care of.”

“The switch in your brain you want to shut down permanently,” said Tony. “Maybe I can help.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Stark.”

“A safe Bucky is a happy Bucky. I’ll get right on it.” Tony’s watched beeped and he made a show of his sigh and response to whatever was alerting him. “I need to go. We’ll be in touch.” They all stood up at once. Tony reached over and clapped Steve on the arm. “Captain.”

“Tony.”

And Tony nodded to Bucky. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Thanks for the phone, and this weird drink.”

\---

Bucky played with the new phone on the subway. He found a camera feature and took a picture of his shoes. Then he flipped the whole phone around and took a picture of his face. The angle from his lap made his face look like he was a fat thug without a neck. He snorted and showed Steve.

“I had a fancy phone for a while, but I prefer this one.”

“I’m gonna send Sam a message. ‘Hey, asshole.’”

“One thing about texting: apparently it makes people uncomfortable if you use proper grammar and punctuation.”

“My message didn’t go through, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. That too.” Steve pointed up as if being in the subway explained everything.

“So is that all this phone does? I can bother people with messages and take pictures? The way people stare at these things, I thought there would be more to it.”

Steve tilted his head from side to side, considering. “Let’s just start with the messages and pictures, first.”

Bucky took another picture of himself but still couldn’t get a good angle. Steve leaned over and took the phone, lifted it so it was slightly above them, and took a picture of the two of them. Steve was smiling but Bucky was just staring up like the phone was going to bite him.

“‘Selfie,’” said Steve.

“Pardon?”

“It’s called a ‘selfie’ when you do that. I guess it’s short for ‘self-portrait’.”

Bucky looked at the picture of him and Steve and was certain the grin on his face was big and stupid. “Nice.” Then his phone buzzed in his hand and made a beeping sound. “Shit!” He jumped.

“Someone send you a text?”

“Yeah. Sam said… oops, it’s gone.”

“Here.” Steve poked the screen and clicked on a small picture of an envelope. Weird, having electronic messages come in envelopes. The message popped up on his screen.

James Barnes: Hey, asshole.  
Sam Wilson: who the hell is this?

Bucky started snickering. “‘It’s Barnes, asshole.’ Sent.”

“You could just call Sam, you know.”

Bucky took a picture of his middle finger and sent it to Sam.

“Bucky.”

Bucky took a picture of Steve’s disappointed face and sent it to Sam.

Steve dragged his hand over his face and sighed.

“I like this phone. I should text Stark. ‘Hey, asshole.’”

“Bucky!”

Another picture of Steve’s disappointed face was sent into outer space and over to Tony’s phone.

“Is there any limit to how many of these I can send? Oh, what’s this?” Bucky started scrolling through the ‘Contacts’ section of his phone. “I don’t have Sharon’s number. Do you?”

“Uh,” Steve’s brow furrowed. “No. She had to change it.”

“Nat has it. ‘Hey, Nat, what’s Sharon’s number?’”

“Bucky, you can’t ask someone for a girl’s number.”

“I just did. Nat says ‘who is this?’ Why doesn’t anyone know who I am, it says it right here in the conversation! It’s even my _proper name_.”

“C’mon, we gotta go. This is our stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Tony Stark and out of everybody I'm the most nervous I didn't do a good job. But there you go!
> 
> I should have given Bucky a phone eons ago... c:
> 
> Oh, and: there is an end in sight! One more chapter!


	8. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's last day in New York is full of fun, adventure, and possession of stolen property.

Steve and Bucky hardly spoke over breakfast. The silence between them weighed over each of their shoulders as they ate scrambled eggs. Bucky was thinking about flying back to Wakanda and the cryo chamber. The cold cylinder, round glass case--he could already feel the stabilizer strap across his chest. Before, after what happened with Stark, the chilly bed had been an odd comfort to him. A familiarity that, as a human being, should have frightened more than comforted him. But Bucky had slept in a chamber like that almost his whole life. At the very least, it was _safe_. His thoughts drifted back into the apartment, and he put his fork down on his plate with a clatter.

Steve didn’t say anything, at first, maybe because he wanted to finish the two last bites on his plate. He ate his eggs with hot sauce and ketchup. Bucky turned up his nose as Steve poked the last bit of scrambled eggs into the sauce and ate it.

“Nobody’s making you watch me eat this,” Steve said.

“Eggs were never meant to be treated like that, and you know it.”

“It’s how your dad ate eggs.”

“And he’s _dead_ , so he can’t do this to me anymore.” Bucky grabbed the plates and stacked them in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes with a clatter.

Steve watched as Bucky rinsed off some of the dishes and then, not knowing what to do next, leave them in the sink. “All right,” Steve said, smacking his hands on the tops of his legs. “I got a plan for us today. Do you trust me?”

“Does it involve roller coasters? If so, count me out.”

“I’ll make some adjustments.”

\---

“You chime in if you think of anything else you wanna do,” Steve was saying as they got on the bus.

“Can we go to Central Park?” Bucky asked. The bus was full, so they stood in the back and held on to the rail.

“Definitely. I told Sam we could meet him for lunch.”

Bucky took out his phone.

“Then I was thinking we could see the sights.”

“Uh huh. Actually, I don’t really need to hit all the touristy stuff. Been there a few times. I want to do something fun.”

Steve’s phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket. He frowned at it. “Sam says he can’t come to lunch anymore because you told him to go suck a-- _Bucky_.”

Smiling, Bucky had snapped a photo of Steve making a face like he’d just tasted something sour, and he sent it to Sam. “‘Just kidding, Wilson, you can meet us for lunch.’ Happy now?”

“Can you get along with him for one second?”

“Just did.”

\---

Sam met up with them at a thai restaurant and Bucky elected for them to sit outside on the patio. The sun was in his eyes where he sat, so he reached over and took Sam’s sunglasses off from where they were clipped on his shirt.

“Those look terrible on you, man,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged at him. He thought they looked sharp, even if the aviator frames were a little awkward on his face.

“Sam, we gotta talk to you about something,” Steve said. He had his business face on, like he was about to make a pitch.

Bucky hooked his arm on the back of his chair and checked his phone in his lap.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Tony says they’re looking for Hydra. And I think it’s time we joined the fight again. I want you on the team, if you still want to be in.”

Bucky was concentrating really hard on this puzzle game that Natasha told him to download, lifting his eyes in time to catch Sam's bemused smile.

“Of course I’m in. Why wouldn’t I be in?”

“Because I wanted to make you another offer. I could get your gig back at the VA. You do good work there, and I took that away.”

“You didn’t take anything from me, Steve.”

“I kinda did,” Bucky mumbled. He failed the level and the game wanted him to pay three real dollars in fake game money to continue. He clicked ‘OK.’ No idea where the money was coming from, but it was probably Stark.

“I took you from the men and women that needed you there. That’s why I wanted to check with you. Guys like Bucky and me don’t have anybody like that counting on us. But you had a life before this.”

“Steve.” Sam clasped his hands in front of him and looked down. “Back when I joined up, I never thought I’d come back. I got lucky. I count every day I’ve been back as a blessing. I’m gonna do what I want with the time I’ve been given, and what I want is to help you. Count me in.” Sam paused and looked over at Bucky, who was still playing the game on his phone. “Him, I couldn’t care less about.”

“Y’know,” Bucky looked up and tapped his finger on the table in front of where Steve sat. “You need to quit worrying about everybody else, Steve. What you need to be asking yourself is, ‘what do _I_ want?’”

“To help people. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Yeah. We got that.” Bucky dropped his phone in his lap and turned his full attention to his friend. “But have you ever given yourself permission to do what you wanted? Let somebody else step up and do their part?”

“He’s got a point,” Sam said.

“You deserve a break. This was supposed to be your R&R.”

“I can’t do that, and you know it.” Steve inhaled deeply and let his head fall back so he could squint up at the sky. “That’s not Captain America talking. That’s Steve Rogers talking.”

Bucky looked over at Sam, who looked back at him with a shrug. “He’s impossible,” said Sam. “Thought you knew that.”

“I did know that.”

\---

 

Bucky was still wearing Sam’s sunglasses when he arrived with Steve at Central Park. “Let’s take a picture,” Bucky suggested. He found a nice tree and Steve leaned down into the shot. Bucky was getting better at the whole ‘selfie’ thing.

“We look good.” Bucky sent the picture to Sam and smiled at Steve. Almost instantly, he got a response.

Sam Wilson: GI VE THEM BACK U PRICK

“He’s gonna kill you,” Steve said, punching Bucky lightly in the shoulder. _Clank_. Bucky’s head whirled around and they stared at each other for a second as if they’d just accidentally sent a beacon to the enemy. Nobody at the park had noticed, or cared.

“Ow,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky wanted to rent a rowboat, so they did, and Steve rowed. Bucky laid back across the seats and watched the treetops and clouds roll by. Everything had been moving so fast for him ever since Steve showed up in Bucharest. Sleeping didn’t help because six months had gone by, and afterward he was prepped for surgery for his arm, and after recovery he was on a jet from Wakanda to New York. Everyone was always in a hurry here. Being in a boat like this, gliding across the water at the pace of Steve’s strokes, Bucky felt perfectly calm for the first time in a while.

“You could help, you know,” Steve said.

Bucky sat up slowly, one vertebrae at a time, and adjusted his seating. Then he held out his hands for the oars, and started rowing them back the way they came. Steve relaxed and reached over the side of the boat, trailing his fingertips across the water.

“Thought about tomorrow yet?” Steve asked. He was always very direct, but he skirted around the real question.

“You mean if I’m going to go back under.”

“That’s… what I meant.”

Bucky couldn’t watch Steve’s face, so instead he looked at the shoreline where there were two tall trees spaced out just enough for two people to sit. He stopped rowing, and the boat slid to a halt. “I kissed a girl right there.”

His friend turned his eyes in the direction he was looking. “Looks like a nice spot.”

“Yeah, then she broke up with me.”

“Sorry, Buck.”

“Nah. Don’t be. That was a long time ago, and I didn’t care about her.” Bucky adjusted his grip on the oars and looked at Steve with a grin. “Didn’t care about any of them. You knew all along to wait for the right one.”

“Don’t listen to any of my advice. You’ll miss every opportunity and lose her in the worst way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t lose everything.”

Bucky wet his lips and stared down into the boat. First at his own feet covered in new sneakers, then at Steve’s boots. “I’m not going back under.”

“You’re sure about that? I don’t want to keep you if it’s not what you want.” Steve’s jaw tensed and he nodded as if allowing himself to say what he wanted to say. “I want you by my side.”

“I want to be with you too, Steve.” Bucky lifted his eyes and could have sworn light was actually emanating from Steve’s face. Heat rose up from his neck into his cheeks. “If that’s okay.”

Steve reached out and grasped Bucky’s arm, giving him a squeeze. An old familiar touch that predated even their friendship. “Of course,” Steve said. “I’d like that.”

“Well, _good_.” Bucky pressed his lips together to keep from smiling and failed. “All those times I practically begged you to crash at my place, and you were too proud…”

“I’m not too proud.” Steve gave him a little push and let go. “I care about you.”

“Too much.” Bucky smirked.

“Now, don’t get all soft on me.” Placing a hand over the lower half of his face, Steve covered a nervous chuckle.

“You know I love you, Steve.”

“I do.” The words were uttered like a vow, reverent but soft. Steve reached out and took the sunglasses off of Bucky’s face. Steve watched Bucky’s eyes, staring into him like he always could. Bucky’s heart raced, and he felt scared, then he remembered what this was. When he breathed, his chest swelled, and his heart was full. The honesty made him raw and his words were not as strong as his beating heart. The way Steve was looking at him, he must have filled in the gaps Bucky’s words couldn’t express.

Steve set the sunglasses aside--they bounced off the side of the boat and plopped into the water. “Oh--shit--” Steve tried to grab the glasses out of the water, but at the risk of tipping the boat over, he just watched them sink below the surface and out of sight.

The moment released him and Bucky laughed so hard the boat rocked. “Been nice knowing you, Rogers!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!
> 
> .... Actually, I'm working on a sequel. Is it going to be funny? Fluff? Angst? ALL OF THE ABOVE? I don't know yet, but Sam and Bucky are going to wear their "get along" shirt and we will see what happens.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings I'm trying to work out with these two. Hopefully I can get it all done in this seven part series! Thanks for reading. Critique welcome!


End file.
